A Year in Life
by Orlissa
Summary: A small collection of drabbles from December 2016 till November 2017 in the Haylie/Ada/Ellie Verse, offering a look into Skye's pregnancy with Ada. Pure fluff and Skyeward family feels. I'm not even sorry.
1. December

**A/N:** So I realized that I have a bunch of stories about Skye's pregnancy with Haylie, but barely anything about the one with Ada - so I'm going to amend this now. Also, it started out as a picture drabble, but then grew out that genre in like a minute :D So now it's a collection of drabbles/ficlets, each of them a little snapshot from that time (you'll find some scenes among them that will be familiar from other stories in this 'verse). The whole thing will be twelve chapters long, and - if everything goes well - it'll be update daily. Enjoy! :)  
 **Disclaimer:** [Insert funny text here that tells you I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.]

* * *

 **December**

The flames in the fireplace and the twinkling lights on the tree bathed the room in an ambient glow, Haylie was sleeping soundly in her room, her stuffed monkey hugged to her chest (she hadn't really grasped the idea of Santa Clause and that she was supposed to be excited about the next morning just yet), the scent of cinnamon and eggnog filled the air, Skye was lying on the couch, her feet in Grant's lap, and she hadn't felt this relaxed in a long while.

Maybe that's why she decided to broach the subject.

"Have you," she started, looking at him, feeling just a little nervous. "Have you thought about what we talked about back in May?" _And brought up, jokingly, every now and then, ever since Haylie's been born?_

He smiled at her, not yet realizing the gravity of the conversation as he continued rubbing the arch of her foot. "You'll have to be a little more specific than that."

"You know," she shrugged, as if it was no big deal, "about having another baby."

He sat up straight in an instant. "I have," he admitted with a nearly unreadable expression, although the almost imperceptible smile at the corner of his mouth, the one she alone could see, betrayed him. "Why? Do you…?"

"Yeah," she said almost shyly as she sat up, pulling her feet from his lap, so she could look directly into his eyes. "I mean, we always said that another kid is in the cards in the future, and it seems like a good time. Caseload's been pretty light recently, we have a house all lived in, and Haylie'd be past two by the time the new baby came. And," she adds sly smile, "it'd be fun getting pregnant on purpose this time."

He laughed at that, throwing his head back ( _yeah, Haylie'd been their little surprise_ ), then fell silent for a moment, seemingly thinking it through.

She bit into her bottom lip, waiting. She expected some kind of discussion, logical arguments pro and con, and the suggestion that they sleep on it. Instead the next moment he grinned, grabbed her waist, pulled her into his lap–she squealed–and kissed her.

"Okay," he said against her lips as she giggled. "Let's make a baby."


	2. January

**January**

"A-alright," Jemma said, drawing out the word, her eyes trained on the screen of the tablet as she scrolled through Skye's labs. "Everything seems just great."

Skye smiled at her friend–it was nice, in a strange, mother hen kind of way, that even though their old team was all but disbanded, Jemma still considered it her duty to supervise all of their yearly physicals.

"Blood pressure's good, lung function check…" she went on, mostly speaking to herself, barely aware that she wasn't alone in the lab. "Yep, you're fit as the proverbial fiddle," she looked up from the screen at last, smiling widely at her friend. "But," she added before Skye could have said anything, "I see that you've missed your last contraceptive shot."

Skye froze; now _that_ she hadn't thought of–they hadn't told anyone yet that they were trying for baby number two, and she had wanted it to stay this way for a little while longer–there was no point in getting their family excited just yet. Of course, now it seemed like this plan had just gone up in smoke.

"Have you forgotten your appointment?" Jemma asked, more concerned about this glitch than Skye's reaction to it. She put the tablet down and reached for her phone. "Do you want me to schedule you–?"

"Jemma, no," Skye put up her hand, standing up from Fitz's desk where she'd been sitting until then. "It's okay, I didn't forget it."

Simmons looked at her, confused, shaking her head slightly. "But I swear I saw it on your file that your last was in–"

"Jemma," Skye interrupted her again, looking straight into her eyes. "I didn't _forget_ it," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word.

"What…" she started, and Skye could basically see the cogwheels turn in her head before everything clicked, and her excitement suddenly skyrocketed. "Oh!" She breathed, raising her hands to her mouth and rocking back and forth on her heels, unable to keep still. "Really? And since when?"

Skye grinned, not immune to the excitement of all of this. "We just decided it over Christmas." She bit into her lip to keep herself from grinning even more widely. "And currently this is kind of a secret, okay? Just until we have something certain."

"Of course," Jemma nodded, still grinning. "I won't tell anybody." (Somehow Skye had her doubts about it, but she didn't voice them.) "But still–a baby!" she said in a very loud whisper. "Haylie is getting a little brother or sister!"

"Yeah, I know," Skye sat back, her hand wandering to her belly as if there was already a baby in there. "It's pretty crazy. But," she knocked on the corner of the desk, "let's not jinx it yet."

"Of course," Jemma replied with a slight roll of her eyes, then clicked back to doctor mode in a fraction of a second. "You've started taking prenatal vitamins, right? You'll have to really pay attention to what you eat now. Oh, and do you want me to make you a chart, so you guys know when you should… you know?"

Skye shook her head, smiling to herself–really, she shouldn't have expected anything less from Jemma.


	3. February

**February**

The day had been hectic–Grant hadn't seen Skye or Haylie since morning–, and he was bone tired, but he could still see that something bothered Skye the moment he got home.

For the untrained eye, she must have looked completely okay–she giggled with Haylie as the toddler ate her dinner and told him what Fitz'd said during lunch, but there was still something off about her. He watched her all through dinner, but decided to wait until after Haylie was put to bed before trying to talk with her about it; so he volunteered to tuck their daughter in while she tidied up the kitchen, unconsciously rushing through the steps of getting her to bed, so he could dig into–and hopefully solve–the problem sooner.

When he got back downstairs after Haylie'd fallen asleep, Skye was just unpacking the dishwasher, seemingly lost in her thoughts, not even realizing that he'd returned. He stood on the threshold for a moment, watching her, looking for her tells, before he decided to let his presence known.

"Shame on you," he said with a clear, teasing edge in his voice, making her jump slightly. "Haven't I told you to always pay attention to your surroundings?"

She halfway turned towards him, a slight smile on her face, although it, too, felt a little forced.

"Oh, yeah, it rings a tiny bell. I guess you mentioned it right after "don't say _bang_ when pulling the trigger," she answered, opening the cupboard and putting the clean plates away.

He stepped closer to her. "Skye, what's wrong?"

She didn't say that nothing was wrong, only shrugged. "It's no big deal, really," she said, avoiding looking into his eyes. "It's stupid, even."

He stood right behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck.

"It bothers you, so of course it's a big deal," he told her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Please, tell me. Let me help."

She sighed, pried his arms from around her body, and turned around so she could face him, even though she still didn't look into his eyes.

"It's just…" She ran a hand through her hair. "I started my period today."

He blinked, trying to put meaning to her words. And then he understood.

 _Oh._

"Skye…"

"I told you it was stupid," she went on, as she turned away again and resumed putting away the clean dishes. "It's not like I should have expected getting pregnant right away–what are the chances for that? It took longer than that even with Haylie… But still–it sucks. And it's frustrating. Not only because it didn't happen _now_ , but also because it got me thinking, as crazy as it as, that what if it won't happen later either? What if Haylie was a fluke, a… a… an after-effect of the Terrigen, and I won't be able to get pregnant again? I mean, it's not that uncommon, and–"

He grabbed her shoulders, cutting off her rant, turned her around, took her face into his hands, and kissed her deeply. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes.

"Next month," he said simply, with unwavering conviction. "I promise."

He could have sworn he saw tears brimming in her eyes.

"Okay," she nodded, then hugged him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Next month."


	4. March

**March**

He woke to the unnerving feeling of being watched and an annoying finger poking his shoulder.

"Good morning," greeted him Skye in a strangely cheerful whisper when he sluggishly opened his eyes. She was lying next to him in the bed, on her stomach, supporting herself on her elbows, wearing an old, faded _Firefly_ T-shirt and one of his boxers. The section of the sky seen through the window behind her looked positively dark, with only a hint of pink on the horizon; so dark that it made him groan and look at the clock on the nightstand.

 _5:08 a.m._ It was way too early even by his usual standards–factoring in that he had just gotten home less than five hours ago from a six-day-long mission, he really wasn't happy about being woken up.

"Why are you up?" he asked with a groan, his head falling back on the pillow.

A grin tugged at the corner of Skye's mouth. "I'm late," she said, almost prompting him to say that then she'd better hurry instead of just chatting with him, but then she continued, "three days late, to be exact."

And then it clicked, pushing even the last vestiges of sleep from his mind.

"Really?" he sat up suddenly, eyes wide open. "And have you…?"

"Not yet," she shook her head. "I was waiting for you. And since they say it's the best to take it in the morning… where are you going?"

He stopped in the middle of putting on his pants, which he had just simply left on the floor the previous night.

"Shouldn't we… I don't know, go to the drug store?" he asked, looking at her. There was a moment of silence, and then she laughed.

"I've got it covered, don't worry," she said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "Although, let me tell you, it was real _torture_ to wait for you. But now you just stay here, I'll be back in a moment." And with that she climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

What came after this easily made the shortlist for the longest two minutes of Grant's life (and he'd lived through a couple of moments which had felt like an eternity). He pulled off the pants again, carelessly tossing the garment away, and then just sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Skye to return, while nervously drumming on his knees with his fingers.

When she did return to the bedroom with a timid smile on her face, she was grasping something small and white in her hand. She stepped up to him and sat down next to him.

"And now?" he asked, his gaze moving between her face and the object in her hand.

"Now we wait," she nodded. "For two minutes. Well, more like one, by now." She was silent for a moment, and then started chuckling. "It's just so damn strange," she told him. "We skipped this part last time."

"True," he smiled, taking her free hand. "Although I have to tell you, I prefer this way of finding out we're having a baby to the one we went through last time. Much less traumatic."

"True–but don't jinx it!" she chided him teasingly, squeezing his hand, then she looked at the clock, watching as the glowing, digital numbers changed from 5:12 to 5:13. She sighed. "Okay… I guess this is it. Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Alright." She closed her eyes for a moment, then when she opened them again, she uncurled her fingers from the pregnancy test as well, exposing the tiny window on the white, plastic stick. "Alright," she repeated. "That's…" she raised a hand to her mouth, letting out a choked sound, "that's a pretty definite line there."

Grant was almost completely sure what it meant, but he still needed to ask. "So?"

Skye turned to him, smiling widely. "We're having a baby," she said before throwing her arms around his neck and tackling him on the mattress, both of them laughing.


	5. April

**April**

Phil Coulson tapped his pen against the edge of the desk, groaned, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew what he was doing was important, and he was honored to had been given such an important position in the newly mantled S.H.I.E.L.D., but on days like this, when he felt like he was trapped behind his desk, he wished he was still out in the field. And, of course, he saw the irony in the situation: a couple of years ago he had been the one who teased May about the "red tape," and here he was now, reading a progress report on the reconstruction of the Academy.

"Knock, knock." He looked up and saw Skye sticking her head into his office through the partially opened door, a cheeky grin on her face. "Hey, A.C.," she cleared her throat and opened the door a little wider, taking half a step into the room, "I mean, Deputy Director Coulson," she corrected herself with a faux-serious expression. "D'you have a minute?"

Coulson smiled at his protégé, pushing the report aside (he was glad he had a reason to do so). "Of course, come in, sit down," he said, motioning towards one of the chairs standing on the other side of his desk. "What can I help you with?"

"I just wanted to give you this personally," Skye replied as she sat down, with that certain kind of smile of hers on her face, the one he'd known back from their early days on the Bus, the one that always preceded some snide remark or mischief. Only slightly suspicious, Coulson took what she handed him–a standard, S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued manila folder, one he hadn't even noticed in her hand until then. Gingerly, he opened the cover, glancing at the document inside.

"What's this?"

"Just my formal request to be pulled from fieldwork for an indefinite time," she shrugged, still smiling. "No big deal, I just wanted it to actually reach you, instead of being filed by some secretary."

"Pulled from the field?" Coulson echoed, scanning through the first page of the document. "Why? Is everything alright?" He looked up at her, his concern rising.

Her smile didn't falter a bit. "Of course. I just heard it's not really advisable to be running around in the hail of bullets–and other projectiles–when one is pregnant."

"Preg…" It took him a second to put two and two together, but when it clicked, Coulson laughed, his worry turning into elation. "You are not kidding, right?"

"Of course not." If possible, Skye's smile became even wider. "I've even attached the doctor's note to my form, if you don't believe me," she said as she leaned forward and turned the page in the folder. And really, there it was: the medical report confirming the pregnancy, with even a tiny, grainy, black-and-white ultrasound picture enclosed.

"It's ten weeks yesterday, so we're mostly in the clear now," Skye went on while his gaze was still locked on the document in front of him. "Little over an inch, steady heartbeat, the doc said everything looks just great."

Coulson closed the folder and looked at her once again. "I'm going to hug you now," he stated simply.

Skye chuckled. "Come here," she said, standing up from the chair. Coulson got up as well, circled the desk, and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"This is the best news I've heard today," he said, his arms still around her. "And I've just read that the Academy's reconstruction is within budget." Skye laughed and he let her go, holding her at arm's length. "Does anybody else know it yet?"

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, yes, Jemma knows, but only because she knew we were trying–which she wasn't even supposed to find out, anyway–, but other than her, no-one." She paused. "Well, maybe Fitz. You know." She shrugged, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "We thought we'd tell the team this Saturday, if that's okay?" Skye asked, referring to the dinner party Audrey was planning and he was happily co-hosting–especially since she put such an effort into getting to know his people. "If you guys don't mind if we steal the spotlight, I mean."

"Of course not," he shook his head. "I'll tell her to have some champagne ready–not for you!" he added hastily. "Of course not for you."

Skye laughed and stepped away from him. "I know, I know. But I'd better go now–I still have a report to write and a couple of searches to run, I just wanted to tell you this," she said, then glanced at the folder on Coulson's desk. "Don't forget to file that one, will ya?" she added with a wink.

"I won't," he assured her with a grin he was sure he couldn't get off his face right now, even if he tired.

"Thanks, A.C.!" she said, walking to the door. "Then see you on Saturday?"

"Saturday," he nodded, then, with one last little, goofy wave, she left, closing the door behind her.

Coulson walked back to his chair, sat down, and pulled the report in front of himself once again, picking up where he left off. Only, he noted it with great relief, suddenly the document didn't seem nearly that terrible as five minutes ago.


	6. May

**A/N:** So, my laptop is dying. This in itself is not that big of a problem - it's been rickety for a while now, so buying a new one has been calculated into the budget (I just kept putting it off) -, and I've already ordered the new one. It's just I won't get it until early next week (possibly Tuesday), so there might be some delays in updating until then, should my laptop decide to kick the bucket (which I'm praying won't happen until my bulks of data is transferred to the new one).

* * *

 **May**

Skye stood in front of the door for a couple of seconds before entering, watching the man inside the room through the glass with a lump in her throat.

She hadn't seen her father in nearly two years, and looking at him right now… It was strange. He had barely changed–the lines on his face might have gotten a little deeper, and maybe there was just a hint of silver at his temples, but that was it. Cal Johnson still looked the same as she had first met him over three years ago.

She knew what happened, Coulson had briefed her on the case: his past–the criminal one–had caught up with Cal, first resulting in a bit of a scuffle, then in the complete break of the T.A.H.I.T.I. Protocol. But, honestly, the details had eluded Skye, passed through her mind without leaving a permanent mark, and only what really mattered remained: that her father was now here at HQ, and he, although still a little confused, _remembered everything_ and wanted to see _her_.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Cal raised his head at the noise, then the next moment he was already on his feet, coming towards her. "Daisy," the name fell from his lips like a prayer.

Skye gave him a small, melancholic smile. "It's good to see you too. I… still go by Skye, actually," she corrected him in a soft voice, but when she saw his face fell, she quickly added, "but I use Daisy as a middle name."

"Right, of course, I'm sorry," Cal rambled, clearly flustered. "Sit down, please?" He pulled a chair for her, and when she, without a word, took seat, he sat back down as well, pulling his chair towards hers. "So… Skye Daisy Johnson. It actually has a nice lilt. I like it," he went on, tasting the name.

"Ward," she cut in almost involuntarily, and, when she saw Cal's confused expression, she added, "Skye Daisy Ward. I got married." She raised her left hand, showing her father her ring.

There was a strange glimmer in Cal's eyes as he sat up straighter. "Oh, that's… great. It's that…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to fight off a headache. "Is that man who came after you in San Juan? Tall, dark haired… what was his name?"

"Grant. And yes, that's him. And he's… the best. I'm happy with him." She didn't exactly know why, but she wanted Cal to know that she was alright, loved, cared for.

"I'm…" He cleared his throat. "I'm glad. That you're happy. And… I can see it on you. You look… great," he went on, pausing again and again, looking for the right words.

Skye nodded absent-mindedly, her eyes straying from the man sitting in front of her, wandering around the room. They were in one of the conference rooms, for which she was greatly grateful for Coulson–with all the chrome and glass it still felt a little cold and impersonal, but it was still eons better than an interrogation room. And being there also signified that Cal wasn't a prisoner here–he was, well, not a guest, but close. A visitor.

"And…" her father continued after a pause that stretched for several seconds. "You have a baby." there was a strange mixture of joy, disbelief, and strain on his face as he said that. "I remember it." He squeezed his eyes shut. "You came to visit me, you, that man, and a baby. You were pushing the stroller. And…" he trailed off, trying to remember more.

"Her name's Haylie," Skye told him, trying to make it easier for him. "Haylie Grace Ward. She's two next month, and… she's amazing," she concluded with a smile, not sure how could she put that miracle into words that was her daughter. "I can show you pictures, if you want to…?"

His eyes shimmered strangely again, his mouth twitching, fighting off a grin. "Yes, please."

She pulled out her cell phone, opened the folder, and handed him the device. Cal scrolled through the photos with a growing wonder written on his face. Skye knew what he saw–Haylie laughing, her face smeared with chocolate pudding; Haylie tormenting their dog; Haylie sleeping on her father's chest.

A single tear rolled down Cal's face. He didn't bother with wiping it.

"She's beautiful," he said in a choked voice, giving her phone back. "She looks just like you."

Skye cast her eyes down, a slight smile on her face. She half-wanted to argue with her father and tell him that she believed that Haylie actually took more after her father, but in the end, she remained silent, leaving him the belief that he was seeing the incarnation of the baby–what that baby could have become–he had lost such a long time ago.

Her hand wandered to her stomach, to the small curve hidden under her shirt. This was also the moment to let him know something else as well.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted the next moment without any preamble, raising her head and looking into Cal's eyes. "I'm having a baby. I'm due in November."

She saw in her father's eyes that he had a million questions he wanted to ask, and thought that he was going to start crying then, but sniffed only once, and held up. He reached for her hand lying on the tabletop and grasped it. She didn't pull it away.

"Not everything might be clear for me right now, but…" he started, his hands trembling. "As I understand, they are not going to repeat the procedure–too much of a risk, Coulson sad–, and they are not locking me up either. They're giving me amnesty, and…" He took a deep breath. "And I thought… maybe you'd let me see you sometimes? And meet my granddaughter. I'd like to be a part of her life–your life. I want to know you, and your husband, and your child… children. "His gaze flickered to her belly. "I could move closer, help you out, and…"

She squeezed his hand, making him stop talking and look into her eyes. "That'd be… nice."


	7. June

**A/N:** After my laptop deciding it doesn't really want to work anymore yesterday–I borrowed my dad's laptop to finish this chapter–, today I twisted my ankle, and now I walk with the grace and swiftness of a zombie… (Sorry for the complaining.) Anyway, as for the chapter, I still wish we saw more of Audrey, and yes, I still kinda ship him her with Coulson. Sue me.

* * *

 **June**

"So you're finding out the gender next week?" Audrey asked casually, in that quiet, thoughtful way of hers, as she handed Skye her plate.

"If the baby cooperates," Skye smiled, a hand unconsciously wandering to her bump under table.

They were at Coulson and Audrey's place, for the usual monthly Saturday "Team Dinner." Skye was really grateful for the fact that, after all the mess–like that tiny thing that Audrey had believed Coulson to be dead for like three years–they had found their way back to each other–not just because she genuinely seemed to make A.C. happy, but also because she had the near magical ability to sat down and feed twelve people (sometimes more, if Joey or somebody else from her Inhuman team was in town) and a toddler month after month.

And Skye'd be the first one to admit that they were not an easy bunch–Hunter had basically no table manners, no dinner passed without some good-natured but loud argument, and Fitz already had a tally of seven broken plates and other kind of kitchenware just in the last six months. Still, Audrey bore all of this with saintly patience and a smile, and somehow always invited them again, keeping their now mostly scattered team together, for which they couldn't have been more grateful. But beyond that, these occasions meant something else to Skye, too: these were those cozy, chaotic family dinners she had dreamed of as a child, and she was just so happy that her children could grow up knowing them.

"I'm sure it will," Audrey assured her with a smile as she continued serving. "And if we're already talking about this… Have you guys thought about hosting a gender reveal party?"

Skye blinked. "A what?"

"Oh, I've been to one of those. They're cool," sounded Hunter's voice from the other end of the table, making everyone turn towards him, like in some old comedy. "What?" the mercenary asked indignantly. "I have cousins, y'know."

"That still doesn't obliterate the fact that you think they're 'cool'" Mack pointed out.

"Can't a guy just–"

"No, Hunter, _you_ can't," Mack interrupted him.

"Please, Hunter, tell me you went to the baby shower, too," Skye added with a grin, not being able to keep out of the conversation

"Or even better," Trip joined the teasing, "the bachelorette party. You'd fit right there."

"Guys," Fitz cut in at last, sensing that the conversation was slowly drifting to waters not really appropriate for the more and more eagerly listening Haylie, who sat in her high chair right next to her father. "Some of us still don't know exactly what we are talking about."

"Well, the name is pretty self-explanatory," Bobbi took over the discussion, leaning a little forward and resting her elbow on the tablecloth. "Basically, when the doctor finds out the sex of the baby, he or she doesn't tell the parents, but puts it in a sealed envelope. The parents give this envelope to a third party, who checks it, then hides it in a color-coded manner in something–like makes a cake with blue or pink filling, or fills up a box with blue or pink balloons. Then the parents call over their friends and family, and cut the cake or open the box in front of the crowd, so everybody finds out at the same time if they are having a boy or a girl." Her words were followed by utter silence, which prompted her to shrug and nod towards Hunter. "What? I went with him."

"Oh, it actually sounds cute," Jemma said in an almost dreamy voice, to which Audrey and (to Skye's slight surprise) Coulson nodded. "Really, it's an adorable idea. Skye, Grant," she turned to them, excitement's dangerous glimmer in her eyes, "you really should have one."

Skye's instinctive answer would have been a very definite _no_ , but, thankfully, she had been getting better at this self-control thing.

Really, she knew she wasn't that far from _that_ kind of mothers–she used baby talk with Haylie, sometimes mixed up with nonsense words, and she had like a thousand photos of her on her phone, and she could watch her sleep for hours, but even she drew the line at a certain point. And this gender reveal thing was beyond that line. Honestly, it sounded so… kitschy, she almost felt like throwing up–and she had already been over the morning sickness.

"I… don't think this is a good idea," she said tentatively, trying for a softer approach.

"You don't?" Grant turned towards her, clear relief written on his face (oh, so she wasn't the only one not sold on the idea. Thank goodness).

"No," Skye shook her head, swiftly trying to come up with a valid reason for it. "Since, you know, Andrew's going to that conference next weekend, so he couldn't be here," she nodded towards the man in question, thankful that she could remember this detail. It seemed like Andrew was just about to say something on the matter of thise, but Grant was faster than him:

"And, Coulson, if the Stanwich case goes down on Thursday, we might as well will be writing reports into Saturday," he added, quickly catching Skye's drift.

"And waiting for another week to find out would definitely drive me nuts," Skye went on. "Not to mention how Haylie'd react." Haylie, for once–when she could have helped out her mother–was not even paying attention to them, instead focused on making a mess of her lunch. "And really, I don't think we should make such a fuss about it," she tried to soften it. And, as if it just wanted to agree, the baby nudged her from inside.

 _Good_ , Skye thought, _nice to know we're on the same page already._

Audrey pulled her brows together slightly. "I don't know, to me it seems important enough to make a fuss about... "

Skye swallowed. Now, this was something she _hated_ -the feeling of letting somebody down, whether it was really the case or not. And, just to make the matters worse, now it hit her even harder, thanks to her dear hormones. She bit into her lower lip, quickly trying to find some compromise, some non-kitschy solution to this problem.

"I agree with Skye, we shouldn't put together a party on the account on this, especially not on such a short notice-it'd be too stressful, and she really doesn't need that right now," Grant came to her rescue, his fingers slipping into hers under the table. "But maybe" he continued, glancing at her, looking for confirmation, "we could send some kind of a group message instead, to still let everyone know at the same time?"

"Yes!" Skye nodded, liking the idea already. "I could even code it to be a little fancy-to be like those cakes or boxes or whatever you talked about" she nodded towards Bobbi. "But instead of cutting a cake, you guys'd just have to click on it to see what's inside."

Her idea was welcomed with an appreciative murmur.

"It actually sounds nice," Audrey smiled at her. "And fitting, too."

"And," Hunter quipped in, "now that I think about it, my cousin's party ended up being a disaster…"

And with that- _bullet dodged_ -the conversation quickly turned back to teasing Hunter. Relieved, Skye turned towards Grant and mouthed him a silent _thank you_. He smiled back at her and squeezed her hand under the table.

* * *

"So," Grant said as soon as they got into the car after their doctor's appointment, turning towards her with a gentle, but joyful smile on his face, "another little girl."

"Yeah," Skye nodded, smiling widely as well, albeit maybe a little shyly. "You're… okay with this, right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked with a tone that made it absolutely clear that he saw no reason why he wouldn't be happy about this. He slid his hand on her belly, rubbing the hard curve of it. "We're having a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and I couldn't be happier."

"Me neither," she nodded, placing her hand on top of his for a moment. "But right now, there's nothing I want more than a cool bath and a foot rub after- Damn!"

"What's wrong?" he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"I totally forgot about it," she pouted. She actually pouted. "I still have to code that damned gender-reveal message for the team."

He was still chuckling when he started the car.


	8. July

**A/N:** This one takes place right after chapter 108 of _a Picture Worth a Thousand Words_ , titled Late Night Visitor.

* * *

 **July**

The urge to dump his bag on the floor and shout "I'm home!" the moment he stepped through the door was great, but Grant restrained himself–mostly because it was still early in the morning, more like dawn, really, with the sun just coming up, and, based on the stillness of the house, Skye and Haylie were still asleep. Yet, even though he basically tiptoed into the house instead of announcing his arrival with a great exclamation, the fact remained: although he'd only been away for two days, it was great to be home again.

He toed off his shoes in the hallway, and, his duffel in hand, made his way into the house, silently surveying his surroundings. Everything seemed to be in place, which, of course, meant a certain level of disarray-a sippy cup here, an abandoned stuffed animal there; the usual scene of a toddler's natural habitat.

But, as he walked past the living room, something caught his eyes.

Okay, at first it was mostly just that nagging feeling that told him that something was out of order, and it made him actually _look_ for the source of this feeling. And he didn't have to look for long: there it was, about two feet to the left from the fireplace, at about eye level, a perfect little bullet hole on the cream colored wall. He blinked once, not believing his eyes at first, then stepped closer, in case he was mistaking it for something.

But nope–it was definitely a bullet hole, and–he made a hundred and eighty degrees turn-based on the height and trajectory, the shot was fired from the stairs.

Mildly alarmed, he looked around–there were no other signs of struggle in the room. There was no visible debris or shell casings, the furniture was undisturbed, not even a cushion misplaced, and Haylie's playing tablet and Skye's laptop were on the coffee table. This, and the fact that the door was locked told him that his family must be alright, but still… He wanted to know why the hell someone had felt the need to put a bullet into his wall.

He almost simply yelled upstairs, asking "Skye, why is there a bullet hole in the wall?" It would have been a scene worthy of a sitcom, and he could almost see himself, as if watching the story unfold on TV, standing there, confused, shouting for his wife, only to hear her calm and completely reasonable answer resonate from the upper floor leaving him dumbfounded. Cue the laughing track.

Then, instead of raising his voice, he left the duffel in one of the armchairs and rushed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He only slowed down when he got to the door of the master bedroom, which he opened very slowly, careful not to make any noise.

To his relief–because he was still worried a little–both Skye and Haylie were there, sleeping in the bed on top of the covers, Skye on her side, hugging a pillow, Haylie next to her, sucking her thumb in her sleep.

A smile on his face–two days were really a long time without his girls–he stepped into the room, walked over to the bed, and lay down next to them, drawing Haylie to his chest. The toddler, without waking up, snuggled closer to him and grabbed his T-shirt with her little fist.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered as he leaned closer to Skye, "your prince's here." He kissed her forehead.

Skye wrinkled her nose and wiggled around a bit, showing that she was waking up.

"Great," she mumbled without opening her eyes, "I was just about to elope with the dragon."

He chuckled at that, then, before she could fall back asleep, he asked, "Skye, why's there a bullet hole in the living room wall?"

"'S okay," she replied. "It's just an ICER hole."

Like it was so much more comforting.

"Then I'll rephrase it: why is there an ICER hole in the wall?"

She slowly opened her eyes, then, still groggily, she answered, "Because we had a burglar last night." She yawned. "And I wanted to scare him a little."

Grant snorted a chuckle in spite of the situation.

"We had a burglar, and your first instinct was to scare him?"

She shrugged, still laying down, then, in a much more awake and coherent way, she continued. "Yeah. It's okay, I knew he was a petty crook." After she must have seen in his eyes that he still wasn't convinced, he went on. "Haylie'd been long out, but I couldn't sleep thanks to the bun in the oven," she pointed at her belly, "so I was up when the system reported the perimeter breach. I swear the guy looked straight into the camera, and it took like ten seconds to find him in the database. And I told you, he's a crook. A really pathetic one, too. Like, he'd been convicted of burglary for three times, once because the window fell on him as he was trying to escape." She shrugged again. "I knew I could take him with my hands tied back, so I decided to go down and keep him busy until the cops arrived, so he wouldn't get a chance to trash anything. Watching him sweat, and that shriek he let out when I let a bullet fly by his head were just an added bonus. And don't worry," she reached out, and ran a finger along Haylie's chubby cheek, "the little princess slept through the whole ordeal. Also," she added, looking back at him as she laid her head on the pillow again, "he was really well-mannered for a petty thief. He said we had a lovely house."

He chuckled again, disturbing Haylie, who groaned softly in her sleep. He just couldn't help it-this, what she'd just told him, was really, totally, completely Skye, so much that he could imagine how that scene could have gone down to the minutest detail (now _this_ was really sitcom material). He wished he could have been there to see it for himself.

"And where's he now?" he asked, gently rocking Haylie.

"In central booking, I guess. The cops said they'll notify me if I'll have to make a statement." She yawned again, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Do you want to sleep a bit more?" he asked.

"U-hum," she nodded. "But only if you stay with us."

"That can be arranged," he replied, inching a little closer to her, so Haylie was snuggled between them, and he could rest his hand on Skye's waist.

About two minutes passed-he was sure she'd fallen back asleep-, when Skye spoke again.

"Grant?"

"Yes?"

"You can plaster up that hole, right? Or we should just put a picture in front of it?"


	9. August

**A/N:** I admit, I'm flying a little blind for these last couple of chapters. I have some fleeting ideas of what to write about, but, excluding the very last chapter, these still might easily change. So if you have something you'd like to see in the September/October chapters, I might be open to suggestions :D

* * *

 **August**

The doorbell rang exactly two minutes before three pm, and although it was impossible and stupid, Skye thought, as she went to open the door, that it almost sounded shy and unsure.

Cal (she still wasn't completely comfortable with calling him "dad" to his face) stood on the porch, restlessly switching between putting his weight first on his right foot, then on the left, then back on the right. But other than that, he seemed better put together than Skye had ever seen him, not counting the time he couldn't remember who he really was–his hair was neatly combed, his face freshly shaven, his short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts, even if not exactly fashionable, were immaculate, and he smiled widely when he saw her.

"Skye," he said, without tripping over the word, finally having had come to terms with her chosen name. "It's so great to see you. I didn't come too early, did I?"

"No, not at all," she shook her head, then leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "And it's good to see you too. Come in," she said, opening the door wider.

Cal stepped into the house, his gaze wandering around the room, almost as in awe; it wasn't the first time he had come to visit, but he still seemed to be taken aback by the fact the his _daughter_ lived here–that he had a grown-up daughter with a family on her own, who was willing to include him in that family as well. Then a moment later he shook his head, as if woken from a trace, and focused on her again.

"I brought this for you," he said, handing her the bouquet made of mismatched, brightly colored flowers he was holding. "Well, all of you, I mean. You and the girls," he nodded towards her belly, which, now close to the end of the second trimester, seemed to grow rounder and rounder each day.

"It's… really nice of you," she thanked him with a smile on her face as she took the flowers.

"I chose the flowers for the girls," Cal explained almost proudly, gesturing towards the bouquet. "Roses for Haylie, and Chrysanthemum for the baby. And I added some Marigolds, too, just to be sure. Oh, and Larkspur for you, of course."

"That's really thoughtful of you," she smiled as she smelled the flowers; as overly colorful as it was, the bouquet smelled amazingly, and it really was thoughtful of him. Which just made her feel lame, for not being able to express properly how much she liked it. "Well…" She cleared her throat. "Haylie's still napping, but maybe… Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes, thank you," he nodded (she felt like their conversation couldn't be more clichéd, and she hated it).

She led him to the kitchen and started preparing the coffee for him as he, albeit seemingly a little reluctantly, took seat by the breakfast counter. They were silent for an uncomfortably long moment, during which the wheels in Skye's head kept turning, looking for the best way to break the ice. Then, in the end, she went with the easiest way.

"So… how have you been?"

Cal sat up straighter, his smile widening again. "Great, thank you. I've… I've finally signed the contract on that place I told you about, so if everything goes according to plan, I'm reopening the clinic next month–this time under the name of Calvin Johnson, of course."

Waiting for the coffee to brew, she leaned against the counter, and, with a hand on her bump, she turned towards him.

"I'm happy to hear that. And so you are keeping to healing animals?" she asked, with a slight teasing edge in her voice.

"Well, yes," Cal nodded. "You wouldn't believe it, but next to humans, they are actually the less problematic patients," he continued, making her laugh. He paused for a moment, clearly loving the sight of her being happy, then he continued on a more sober, more tentative note. "And I've been thinking… Not that I want to presume anything… But I could take the girls to an animal clinic. I mean," he swallowed, "when they are older, and you need someone to look after them. I think they'd enjoy there–children like animals. With a human practice… I don't think it'd work."

The clock on the wall ticked only twice before she answered. "Yes, I'm sure they'll love that."

"Really?" She nodded, smiling. Clearly encouraged by her apparent approval, Cal went on, speaking with a little more confidence now, "And I've almost completely settled in my new apartment too. It's not that big, but it's nice and it's in a nice neighborhood–there's even a playground on the corner. And… I have an extra room. It's empty now, but I thought that maybe it could be furnished for the girls?"

Skye thought it over for a moment then nodded again, just as the coffee started dripping.

"It sounds like a great idea," she said, smiling softly, which made Cal grin widely. And she really liked the idea-she was happy that her father was so eager to spend time with his granddaughters.

"Of course, of course," he continued, almost too excited by the thought of possibly having the girls sleep over at his place in the future to keep sitting still. "I've already thought it all out, the room can easily fit a little bed and a crib and everything else they might need, and I could paint it… What's Haylie's favorite color? So I could paint it that, and add little furry animals and butterflies, and I could write 'Haylie' on one wall, and… This reminds me," he stopped at mid-sentence. "Have you decided what to name that baby yet? Or are you waiting for when she's born?"

Skye actually chuckled at that–it reminded her they technically had had no clue how to name Haylie until she was born–as she poured coffee for her father.

"Actually, and it surprises me too, we've already picked the name." She paused for a moment for the dramatic effect (and to hand Cal the mug), then said, "Adalynn Camille. But we're going to call her Ada."

"Ada," Cal tasted the words, then took a sip from the coffee. "I love it. And Adalynn? Where does it come from?"

"Grant's grandmother was called Adelaide–he really loved her, and she died just before Haylie was born, but then we didn't even think about it, and anyway, it would have been too soon… and even now we're not actually naming her after Grant's gramsy." She saw the corner of Cal's mouth twitch at the name. "Be careful with that!" she chuckled. "The girls might still come up with something even more ridiculous. And I might help them," she warned him, to which Cal reacted with raising his hand in surrender.

"Alright, I promise I'll behave. And what about Camille?"

Skye tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, well, the old lady who lived here before us was named Camille, and… It's a long story. I'll tell you someday," she promised. "But I guess I'll go upstairs now to see if the little diva's up, and then we can go to the park. Where you can push her on the swing as much as you want," she said smiling.

"And we'll have ice-cream, too," Cal clapped enthusiastically, clearly more than ready to go, his half-drunk coffee already forgotten. "It's non-negotiable."

"As you say, dad," Skye chuckled to herself as she walked up the stair.

No matter how… turbulent their shared history was, Skye couldn't deny–and she wouldn't, either–that she was glad that her father was back in her life, and that her daughters gained in amazing grandfather in him.

* * *

 **A/N:** As for Cal's bouquet, he chose the flowers based on birth months: rose for June, chrysanthemum for November, marigold for October (as at this point he can't know whether Ada will be born in October or November), and Larkspur for July.


	10. September

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in updates–I had laptop problems first, then I had a temporary writer's block (I'm still not convinced I'm over it, to be honest…), but now here's the next chapter, and I really hope I'll be able to finish this story in the next two days :) Although I still have to figure out what to write about in the next one :D Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this :)

* * *

 **September**

Grant's whole day was basically spent with waiting for an epic tantrum to happen–and now that they were about to tuck Haylie in for the night, he was sure it was only minutes away.

With Ada's birth only eight weeks away now–if she kept to the schedule, that's it–he and Skye had decided it was time to get Haylie to sleep in a real, "big girl" bed, so they could move her crib to the new nursery. Suspecting that this would be stressful for the toddler–if not for anything else, then because it was the first actual impact her little sister's existence had on her life–, they went with every trick the Internet could offer, and… Well, to be honest, so far things had been going great.

They had a talk with her about how she was a big girl now, and that big girls get to sleep in real beds, and the baby needs a crib, and how _nice_ it'd be of her if she let Ada to sleep in hers. Haylie sat this conversation through with a look way too serious for a two-year-old on her face, while nodding solemnly now and then (Skye swore she got this from him, and Grant didn't argue). She was excited, and almost giddy, when they went to pick out her new bed, and squealed in delight when she found _My Little Pony_ themed sheets (which had way too many way too colorful ponies on it for it for his taste, but he wasn't the one who had to sleep in them). And even that afternoon, when Trip came over to help with switching the crib to the bed, Haylie was more hyped over that Uncle Trip was there, than over the fact that her crib was being disassembled to fit through the door.

But now she'd been bathed, dressed in her favorite PJ's, and her teeth brushed, so the (seemingly) inevitable tantrum was about to happen any minute now, Grant was sure. There was only one thing that tipped the scale slightly towards a peaceful evening: thanks to the excitement of the day, Haylie's eyes were already drifting closed as he carried her to her room from the bathroom.

Skye was already waiting for them inside, sitting on the edge of the new bed, having the scene prepared–the new sheets were on the bed, Haylie's favorite stuffed monkey next to the pillow, the nightlight already on, a storybook on the shelf nearby, just waiting to be read. Skye smiled fondly at them as he stepped into the room.

"You have a sleepy baby?" she asked softly.

"A very sleepy one," he replied, reaching the bed. Haylie, half-asleep as she was, reached for her mom right away. "But not too sleepy, apparently," he chuckled.

"It's okay," she said as she took the toddler, who nuzzled her face against Skye's neck right away. "She's never too sleepy for mommy-time, right, munchkin?" Haylie nodded against her neck, but didn't say a word. Skye pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "But I guess it's time to go sleep now."

Haylie didn't resist as they tucked her in with combined effort, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Grant placed the stuffed monkey a little closer to her, and Haylie hugged the toy to her chest instantly. And, for a moment, it seemed like she'd already fallen asleep, but then she said, "Stowy, please?"

Grant almost chuckled at that–of course Haylie wouldn't let them get away with missing the usual bedtime story.

"Sure, baby. What would you like?" he asked, reaching for the storybook and settling on the floor next to the bed. "Cinderella?"

"No Cindewella," she shook her head, her eyes closed. Skye and Grant's eyes met, and they grinned at each other.

"Then what about Rapunzel?" Skye asked, caressing the top of Haylie's head. "Would you like to hear Rapunzel's story, baby?"

"No," Haylie shook her head, a little more impatiently this time. Then she opened her eyes and squinted at Grant. "From you' head, daddy."

Skye chuckled into her hand. "You heard her," she poked Grant's side. "From your head, daddy."

Grant closed his eyes for a moment, letting his head fall back, with a smile on his face.

"Alright," he said after a little pause. "Have I told you the story of the brave princess, who tricked the dragon to invite her to his castle, so she could steal his stolen treasures?"

Needless to stay, Haylie was out by the middle of the story–which was a blessing, considering he had no idea how to make the ending child-friendly. When they were sure Haylie was sleeping soundly, they quietly left the room, leaving the nightlight on. They only dared to spoke after the door had been carefully closed.

"This went smoothly," Skye observed as they made their way towards the stairs. "Easier than I expected."

"We still have to get through the night," he noted somewhat less enthusiastically (he was still waiting for that tantrum to happen).

"Aw, look at you," Skye teased him, elbowing him lightly on the side, "always the optimist."

He chuckled at that. "I'm just…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just glad she's taking everything in a stride," he said at last as they reached the living room and settled on the couch. "She takes after you that way."

Skye let out a mock-chuckle. "She'd better, otherwise I'd doubt she's even mine."

Grant laughed with her for a moment, then took her hand, and continued in a slightly more serious tone. "I'd never doubt it for a moment. She has your eyes. Your smile. Your stubbornness."

"Hey!" she protested playfully. "That's a shared trait, you can't blame it all on me!"

"I'm not blaming anything on young," he assured her, rubbing circles into her wrist. "I'm glad she takes after you so much. It's just…" He paused for a moment and let go of her hand; when he continued, he avoided looking into her eyes. "It's just sometimes I still fear–especially now that Ada's almost here. I watch Haylie, how she reacts to things, and I… I keep searching for signs. Signs that she'll…"

"Hey," she said as she took his chin into her hand and turned his face towards her, saving him from having to voice his thoughts. "Nothing of that, okay? That girl is fifty percent you, and nothing of Christian. Will she and Ada fight sometimes? Of course–they'll be sisters, and that's what sisters do. But they'll also love each other, because that's the other thing sisters do, and because we'll teach them that. We are better than your parents, and neither of our kids will be a deranged maniac like your brother," she said with such conviction and fire that it actually made him crack a smile. He leaned in and kissed her.

"Sometimes I still have a hard time believing that you're actually mine and I'm not dreaming."

"Well, I can pinch you, if you want. Just to prove that you're really not dreaming, of course."

He laughed again, drawing her closer. "Thank you, but I think I'll pass."

She settled against him, sitting between his legs, her back to his chest. Neither of them spoke for a little while after that; they just enjoyed a moment of peace, relishing in each other's company.

"Hey, Grant?" she said softly after a while, looking at him over her shoulder. "We really lucked out with this kid."

"We did," he replied with a small smile as his hand slid to the top of her bump. "And let's hope we will with the next one too."


	11. October

**October**

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Skye was completely absorbed in her work, so his voice made her slightly jump at first, but then she was already smiling as she turned her office chair from the screen towards the door where he was standing, leaning against the doorframe.

"I couldn't sleep and…" she gestured towards the computer with a little shrug, "I guess this is me nesting. I'm just organizing the case files a bit and setting up some security protocols so some people won't bother me with it when I have more important things to do. Like caring for a newborn. And anyway," she rested her hand on the curve of her belly, "shouldn't I ask the same from you?"

One corner of Grant's mouth curved upwards as he pushed himself away from the doorframe. "I'll sleep on the plane. And I couldn't sleep either–the bed was cold without you" he said, stepping into the room Skye'd dubbed as her home office.

Of course, "home office" was a bit of an overstatement–it was basically just a nook on the ground floor, with a small window, old-fashioned wallpaper on the walls, and an old, faded carpet that had a suspicious stain that was impossible to remove. They'd been wanting to renovate the room for a year now, but somehow there was always something more important–like, most recently, putting together the new nursery–, so it had remained as it was so far, with only a desk, a chair, a big bunch of cables and handful of cardboard boxes (containing hardcopies, spare electronics, and Christmas ornaments) crammed in.

With no other chair to sit, Grant settled on the floor right next to her, taking one of her fuzzy sock-clad foot in his hand. Skye looked down at him with a fond expression on her face.

"Somehow I don't remember you being this… lax about missions. Ever."

He chuckled. "Things change." He started gently massaging her ankle without being asked. "And speaking of missions, I've settled it with Coulson–no more missions for me at least until January. Longer, if he can manage and the world's not ending. I'll still do consulting, if needed, but nothing that'll have me leave town."

She rested her elbow on the desk, still smiling. "You'll go nuts within a month."

"I don't know–I think I've built up a pretty good resistance against that by your side, since you've been testing my sanity for a couple of years now."

"Oh, if I had something right now, I'd so hit you."

Both of them laughed at the for a moment, but then he sobered up again, looking into her eyes.

"But going back to tomorrow." He took a breath. "I've spoken with FitzSimmons, and they're ready to jump if you need anything. And your father said he'd bring dinner tomorrow, and Audrey promised she'd swing by the day after tomorrow after rehearsal–"

"You just organized an all-around the clock watch, didn't you?" Skye cut in, half-heartedly feigning annoyance, but not really succeeding.

He reached up and took her hand. "I just want to be sure that you're okay and looked after."

"Grant, you'll be away for like three days."

"It could be four. It depends–"

"I know," she cut in again, squeezing his hand. "I know the mission parameters at least as well you do. But what I meant to say is that it's not the first time I'll be staying home while you're on a mission–it won't be even the first time when I'll be alone with Haylie. We'll be fine."

"I know, I just…" He sighed, his gaze dropping. "I'd hate to miss her birth," he said at last, pressing his hand against her stomach, fingers spread wide.

A smile on her face, she placed her own hand over his. "You won't–I still have three weeks to go."

He raised his head to meet her geez. "Three weeks' not a long time, and babies are not the best at sticking to deadlines. Even Haylie came early."

"Less than a week early. And she's impatient and wouldn't keep still. This one," she glanced down at her belly, "is calmer. She's in no rush. So I can promise you she'll be right where she's now when you get back in three-to-four days, and you'll be able to hold my hand as I try to squeeze her out. Cross my heart." She smiled at him. "Better?"

"A bit," he nodded. "But I'm not calling back your… What did you call it? 'All around the clock watch'?"

"And I'm not saying you should. I appreciate it, really." She looked at him with a playful smirk. "Especially if they bring food. And have enough stamina to wear out a toddler." He laughed at her joke. "But really, Grant," she continued, reaching out and placing her hand on his cheek, "all I want is for you to know that you don't have to worry about us–we'll be fine. All you have to worry about is to get back to us in one piece."

He leaned into her touch almost unconsciously. "You know I always do. There's no power in the universe that could stop me from coming back to you."

"Now we're talking," she smiled. "But really–try to avoid the stray bullets, okay? Even those that only bite 'skin deep.'"

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, then slowly rose from the floor. "I guess it's really time for us to call it night." He held out his hands to her. "Come to bed with me?"

Skye closed the lid of the laptop with a small _thud_ , then let him help her out of the chair.

"Of course. Everything else can wait."


	12. November

**November**

Labor sucked.

Which was, really, no news, but she didn't remember it sucking this much–time really did sweeten memories, she guessed. Or having your baby did. Take your pick.

She clenched her teeth and let out a low, guttural groan, pushing against the pain as another contraction tore through her body. She held it out as long as she could, not even hearing as the doctor… midwife… whatever counted, then slumped against the edge of the tub, feeling completely spent.

It had been going on… way too long. Honestly, she'd lost count of it hours ago, around the time when she had decided that Ada didn't simply have a calm personality, but was outright reluctant to leave her dear momma's belly. Skye not only had had light, sporadic contractions in the last couple of days that had barely helped the process along, only had had her on the tip of her toes for a long while, but once the labor had started in earnest, it had seemed to drag on forever–which the aforementioned momma really did not appreciate.

"It's okay," Grant murmured into her ear, gently massaging her shoulders; she absolutely had no idea how he had managed to keep calm and composed and supportive (which she was glad for, even if she had her moments when she wanted him out of the room). "You're doing great."

She sincerely doubted that. She felt like she had made absolutely no progress in the last… what it was? Half an hour? An hour? A hundred years? It was as if the only thing she'd accomplished was getting herself completely and utterly exhausted.

She could feel the next contraction coming–at this point, she barely had rest between them–, so she clenched her eyes shut and strained her muscles, gripping the thing that was the closest to her–it might have been Grant's hand, she wasn't sure; even if it was, he didn't complain. She kept pushing through the contraction, barely paying attention to her breathing, or anything else, really, only to the feeling of her baby's head slowly inching downwards.

When it passed, she leaned against the wall of the tub once again, closing her eyes. She could sense that both the doctor and Grant was talking to her, but she just couldn't make out their words. Her attention was utterly limited to what was happening inside of her body at the moment; she had zero capacity left to pay attention to anything else. By now she had reached the point where, if the doctor suggested it–even though she had gone completely natural with Haylie, and had originally planned to do the same with Ada as well–, she would have nodded to a C-section right then. Damn the "being cut open" aspect and the recovery time–she was ready to be done with it and have this baby already.

But before she could have reached the end of this thought, the circle started again, and she was pushing once more, leaning slightly forward, gripping her own legs. Again, the baby made some progress, but the end of the road still seemed impossibly far ahead.

"You can do this," she heard Grant's voice through the fog clouding her conscious, followed by a press of lips against her temple. "You're amazing."

At this point she really doubted that, but she really didn't have the energy to argue, so she simply nodded, and refocused her attention on the task at hand.

…Well, she more-or-less did. Because as her womb contracted once again–making her feel as if she was being torn in half–she couldn't help but think _why the hell did I think it was a good idea?_

Really, there was no logical explanation why she would want to go through this once again, especially completely on her own volition this time (and she really had been the one to bring up the _let's have another kid_ -topic). As it had been already stated, labor sucked, and being pregnant only sucked a little less. It was nine months of discomfort, nausea, sleepiness and a wide variety of other ailments, topped with, like a sundae with a cherry, long, painful hours of trying to push out something the size of a football out of something of the size of a golf ball.

And yet, for some reason right now completely incomprehensible for her, she had signed up for this not only voluntarily, but happily.

She really wanted to slap her past self.

"You're almost there," Grant went on, bringing up some water to her neck, trying to cool her. "Just a little bit longer."

She wanted to argue with him, she really did–have a stupid, petty argument with him, the kind they always had about dishes and toothpaste and Kevlar vests lying around the house–, because he could have absolutely no idea whether she was "almost there" or not, because it was _her_ body and not _his_ , and really, he should have just shut up, for everyone's sake, but before she could have gotten a single word out, she was already feeling the need to push again.

And this time, it felt like, it wasn't in vain.

Soon, she could feel the familiar burning sensation–softer this time than nearly two and a half years ago, thanks to the water–, the telltale sign that the baby's head was just about come out.

"She's coming," she said in a hoarse whisper between contractions, words shaking because of the sudden surge of excitement, and almost blindly grasping for his hand. "I can feel her."

"Yes, you're right," she heard the midwife's voice clearly for the first time what felt like an eternity. "She's crowning–she's almost here. Just one more, big push. Can you do that for me?"

Skye nodded with newfound determination and energy. Almost there. _Almost there._ She could do it.

In the end one push turned into two, but she couldn't care less–soon she could feel the baby sliding out from between her legs, the tiny body slipping out almost easily once the head was out, and then she was instinctively reaching out, taking her child into her hands, and–

And then there she was, a little, chubby, messy newborn on her chest, not crying, just mewling softly, fidgeting against her skin; she rested her hand on the baby's head, almost completely bald, save from some dark wisps of hair, and then the baby–Ada, her little Ada–opened her dark eyes, and clenched and unclenched her tiny fist, and Skye was crying and laughing at the same time, craning her neck backwards to try and see if Grant was seeing this too, if he was witnessing this miracle too.

And, yeah, somehow suddenly it made a lot of sense why she had signed up for this.


End file.
